Monday, November 28, 2011

…were asked to unicorn-sit while your friend was out of town. The unicorn really didn’t like you and the first chance he got, he bolted. You looked everywhere for him. Just when you thought you’d have to tell your friend his beloved unicorn was gone forever, you spotted the unicorn…

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of this Saturday (put “Norman is a Genius” in the subject line). I’ll post three of my favorite entries next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…something that happened to you on a playground…

Chris

It happened on a playground…

I remember the day very vividly; it was cold and had just snowed. All the kids were out running on the playground after lunch. The teachers were probably happy for the break from the loudness. I was excited because I always played football during recess. Today would be no different, only more exciting with the new snow, it was always fun to slide around and try to maintain your traction. The game started out as usual, my friend threw me a bomb perfectly wobbling and I made a diving catch in the snow. Then I was “two-hand” tapped for the tackle. The rules at our school allowed for football, as long as it was two hand touch. The ball popped out from my grasp and someone on the other team started running as if I had fumbled. My anger got a hold of me, I was already down, I bolted slipping in the snow and laid a hard tackle on the ball carrier. The ball bounced out again, this time I picked it up. Immediately, someone screamed, “Get him!” I had no other choice but to run with the football dodging tacklers as if I was Earl Campbell. I ran through the blacktop of the playground as swarms of kids chased me, our game had expanded greatly beyond just those playing football. I was now running out of panic, it felt like hundreds of kids chasing me. I could not keep it up and tripped and fell on the cold hard pavement. A pile of kids jumped on top of me in shear joy, they had caught their prey. I couldn’t breathe, I was smothered. I knew they didn’t want me, but needed the ball to continue the play. I panicked, I couldn’t get the ball out, it was smashed between the ground and me. It eventually came out and the herd quickly chased after. I was free, this close from what I felt was sure death. Just then the bell rang, time to run back in. My friends and I made it first to the door, only to be greeted by an older man with a limp as he walked. He grabbed my shoulder firmly, close to the point of hurting, but not quite. A fear filled my head worse than the suffocation I had felt moments earlier. It was our principal and we were about to get it. The “it” was unknown, and that is what made it so scary. This was in the day when your principal wasn’t your buddy, or lacked the power to truly discipline you. What would our punishment be? We were slowly escorted to the office, a place I had only heard of. We were given our punishment…not a spanking. Something almost as bad. We were told we would have to stay in for recess for a month.

Bigfoot

It happened on a playground…

The slide on the playground at Sasquatch Elementary was tall. Too tall. The other kids liked it. They’d stand in line the whole recess period for a three-second ride that would shoot them off so hard and fast they’d land on their butts a foot away from the base. Even the kid who broke both his arms when he fell off the top of the ladder was back in line the day after his casts came off. I’d stand in line, too, pretending I wanted a turn. But I didn’t. I’d give cuts in line. Everybody thought I was being nice. When it was my turn to climb the ladder, I’d cock my head like I’d just heard somebody calling for me. “You go ahead,” I’d say to whoever was next in line. Then I’d jog toward the school, like maybe a teacher was waiting at the door for me. One day my cover was blown. A classmate started telling everybody I was scared to go down the slide. I don’t know how he knew. By the end of recess I had a new nickname: Bigfear. The next day I rushed out to the slide. I wasn’t trying to be first in line. I didn’t want anybody to see me make a cold chicken soup puddle at the bottom of the slide. I didn’t stand in line. There was no point in pretending any more. I watched from the edge of the playground. The first one down the slide and into the soup was also the last. After that, everybody spent recess on the swings.

Lenny the Levitating Puppy

It happened on a playground…

I was watching a bunch of kids play on a playground. They were playing with a big bouncy red ball. It made a funny sound like it was hollow. They were throwing it at each other, and I thought that was mean, but they were laughing so I guess they were having fun. One kid threw the ball so hard that it bounced right over the fence and landed right next to me. It kept bouncing, first high up bounces and then smaller bounces and then it just rolled a little bit. All the kids ran to the fence and were shouting at me to give them the ball. But I pretended not to hear them because I wanted to play with the ball myself.

Monday, November 21, 2011

It can be true or you can make it up, as long as you write for three minutes about…

…something that happened to you on a playground.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of this Saturday (put “Norman has Minty Fresh Breath” in the subject line). I’ll post three of my favorite entries next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about the time you…

…and your friend went to the movies. Instead of the popcorn you paid for, the woman at the concession stand gave you a box. “Whatever you do,” she said, “don’t open it.” But you did, because how could you not? Telling you not to was pretty much a dare. When you opened the box…

Cranberly

When you opened the box…

Out jumped a half-invisible turtle. I let out a startled noise. I say noise because it wasn’t a yell…more of a “ohmmhhhaaaaa.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said the turtle. “I have been in that box for almost an hour.”

“What…um…who…how…” I had no idea where to start asking my questions. I wanted to know how a half-invisible turtle was talking and moving. I wanted to know who he was. (He sounded like a ‘he’). And I wanted to know how he got in the box and why I had the box.

“I’m sorry to startle you. My friend, Beverly, dared me to get in this box. She said I couldn’t fit,” he explained. “My name is Norman. Where am I? And who are you?”

“You are at the movie theater, um…with me. My name is Sophia.”

“Well, I have clearly proved Beverly wrong. I could fit in the box after all. Although, I am beginning to wonder if that was her original intention? You see, we were having a heated discussion. I insisted she list her very favorite books and she said she couldn’t narrow it down to just one and she really detested questions that start with ‘what is your favorite.’ I quite insisted. And then we came upon this box. By the way, what is your favorite book?”

There was a big note inside that read, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO OPEN THE BOX!” When you turned around, the concession stand woman was glaring at you. “Congratulations,” she said. “You win the prize for being the most nosey.”

Next thing you know, a surly teen employee steps forward and slaps a giant plastic nose onto your face, over your own nose. The nose has black plastic glasses attached, and a black moustache. “Enjoy,” he mutters.

“You have to wear this for the next 48 hours,” the concession stand lady explains, still annoyed. “Then you have to trick someone else into wearing it.” She finally smiles. “Thanks for relieving me of my turn.” Then she skips out the door, tossing her employee hat aside.

Your friend looks amazed. “Wow. I don’t think that lady even works here.”

You give your friend a look. “You THINK?” The plastic nose is warm, and it’s getting moist from condensation. Already you feel panicky. 48 hours in this thing? You start looking around the lobby, assessing the staring crowd. Maybe you could trick one of them. Maybe you could find a way to cut your turn short. Maybe…

Your friend nudges you. “Come on. Let’s go watch the movie.”

You shuffle after your friend, sizing him up in new way. He IS rather gullible. Maybe he’d make a good patsy for the nose. Sliding into your seat, you begin to cook up a plan to trick him into being nosey. Your mind reels with possibilities. It won’t be fun, but you can do it, right? Because wearing this nose is the pits.

But the worst part? The worst part is when you realize that the moustache is so big, it covers your mouth, and this makes it impossible to eat popcorn. Next time someone tells me not to look, you think, I WON’T.

Then again, who are you kidding. You probably would.

Interesting how those last two both had a prank theme. Nice. Except I’m not loving how that Cranberly writer made me out to be the dupe.

There’s one more. Bigfoot put a little nightmare twist in his.

BIGFOOT

When you opened the box…

I’m about to open the box, but my friend grabs my arm and pulls me to the theater.

“Hurry up or we’ll miss the previews. I hate missing the previews. If we miss the previews…”

He goes on and on about the importance of seeing the previews until we sit down. He even talks about the importance of previews through the first preview. I tune him out but I have to admit the preview looks pretty great. So I watch it and I forget about the box I’m holding. And then the movie starts and it’s pretty exciting at first but eventually it gets boring because I don’t believe for a second that the lady is really going to survive a jump out of a hot air balloon flying over the Grand Canyon. And that’s when I remember the box. Don’t open it she said. But I sure am bored, so I open it. And I find myself in a hot air balloon over the Grand Canyon. The woman from the movie is there.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But there’s only one parachute.”

Then she jumps over the edge.

Have fun with this week’s prompt. All I ask is that you don’t throw me off the top of a slide.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

My friends and I have gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. I’ve been seated at the kid’s table with three beagle puppies. Through the frosted dining room window I see Norman and a duck in the front yard. They’ve built a table out of snow and are serving snow turkey, snow cranberry sauce, and snow pie to an Abominable Snowman.

“Let’s eat,” Bigfoot says.

Penny leaves the room and returns with the Thanksgiving Day turkey. She directs him to sit at the head of the table. He picks up a gleaming serving spoon and dips everybody a heaping bowl of pistachio ice cream. After we’ve eaten our ice cream and our side orders of fries, the Thanksgiving Day turkey asks us each to tell what we’re thankful for. When it’s my turn, I can’t speak because my mouth is full of mashed potatoes.

The books BIGFOOT is thankful for:

THE FUTURE OF US by Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler

[YOUNG ADULT]

Razorbill-Penguin

November 21, 2011

WALT DISNEY’S DONALD DUCK: LOST IN THE ANDES

(THE COMPLETE CARL BARKS DISNEY LIBRARY) by Carl Barks

[COMIC]

Fantagraphics

December 5, 2011

WINTER TOWN by Stephen Emond

[YOUNG ADULT]

Little, Brown-Hachette

December 5, 2011

MUSH!: SLED DOGS WITH ISSUES by Glenn Eichler,

illustrated by Joe Infurnari

[YOUNG ADULT—GRAPHIC NOVEL]

First Second-Roaring Brook

December 6, 2011

SAME DIFFERENCE by Derek Kirk Kim

[YOUNG ADULT—GRAPHIC NOVEL]

First Second-Roaring Brook

December 6, 2011

THE PROBABILITY OF MIRACLES by Wendy Wunder

[YOUNG ADULT]

Razorbill-Penguin

December 8, 2011

The books MORZANT is thankful for:

HENRY’S HEART: A BOY, HIS HEART,

AND A NEW BEST FRIEND by Charise Mericle Harper

[PICTURE BOOK]

Henry Holt

November 22, 2011

The books PENNY is thankful for:

LEGEND by Marie Lu

[YOUNG ADULT—FIRST IN THE LEGEND TRILOGY]

Putnam-Penguin

November 29, 2011

MELODY BURNING by Whitley Strieber

[YOUNG ADULT]

Henry Holt

December 6, 2011

SHATTERED SOULS by Mary Lindsey

[YOUNG ADULT]

Philomel-Penguin

December 8, 2011

The books BEVERLY is thankful for:

FIX ME by Rune Michaels

[YOUNG ADULT]

Atheneum-Simon & Schuster

December 6, 2011

SOMETHING TO HOLD by Katherine Schlick Noe

[MIDDLE GRADE]

Clarion-Houghton Mifflin

December 6, 2011

The book OLIVER is thankful for:

SNOWY VALENTINE by David Petersen

[PICTURE BOOK]

HarperCollins

November 22, 2011

The books LENNY is thankful for:

THE QUESTION by Scott J. Langteau,

illustrated by Lidat Truong

[PICTURE BOOK]

Shake the Moon Books

December 1, 2011

THE PRINCE’S NEW PET by Brian Anderson

[PICTURE BOOK]

Roaring Brook

December 6, 2011

The books VIOLET is thankful for:

HUGS FROM PEARL by Paul Schmid

[PICTURE BOOK]

HarperCollins

November 22, 2011

THE PRINCESS OF BORSCHT by Leda Schubert,

illustrated by Bonnie Christensen

[PICTURE BOOK]

Roaring Brook

November 22, 2011

THE BEST KIND OF KISS by Margaret Allum,

illustrated by Jonathan Bentley

[PICTURE BOOK]

Walker

December 6, 2011

ROSIE SPROUT’S TIME TO SHINE by Allison Wortche,

illustrated by Patrice Barton

[PICTURE BOOK]

Knopf-Random House

December 13, 2011

* The dream entries from Briar’s journal contain premonitions of books that will be published in the future. Briar’s dream self foresees the books’ summaries and knows which will likely appeal to each of her friends. Briar always wakes up before she can see whether her friends will enjoy the books.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Last week I challenged you to write for three minutes about a self-proclaimed extraterrestrial who was actually a talking frog. Some of you sent me what you wrote. We’ll get to those entries in a minute. Actually, in three minutes because first I want you to write for three minutes about the time you…

…and your friend went to the movies. Instead of the popcorn you paid for, the woman at the concession stand gave you a box. “Whatever you do,” she said, “don’t open it.” But you did, because how could you not? Telling you not to was pretty much a dare. When you opened the box…

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of this Saturday (put “Norman is Unbelievably Handsome” in the subject line). I’ll post three of my favorite entries next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about the time you…

…met a talking frog in the woods. He seemed to be in a hurry. He stopped only long enough to tell you he was from another planet and to ask for directions to the nearest library. You knew he was lying. He wasn’t an alien, he was really…

When I heard Kelly Bingham had written a young adult novel called SHARK GIRL I couldn’t wait to read it. Turns out it’s not about a girl/shark hybrid, but I liked it anyway. Check out the title of her picture book that’s coming out in March 2012: Z IS FOR MOOSE. I’m not sure what it’s about, but I’m guessing it’s the greatest prank ever played on a whole generation of early readers.

Morzant interviewed Kelly last year, so she knows all about talking frogs (see his August 24, 2010post). Who knows, maybe what she wrote for this will show up in her next book. No thanks necessary, Kelly. Just send cash.

He wasn’t an alien, he was really…

…a talking frog! So…where would a talking frog come from? Not from outer space. From a circus. A traveling magic show? Or…the lab of a mad scientist! Maybe the kind of mad scientist that makes animals or people wear hats with curly wires coming out of them, and then he flips a giant switch and there’s all this zapping, and then PRESTO! The creatures have switched minds. So—if there is a talking frog walking around looking for a library, that very possibly means that somewhere, there is a normal sized person, possibly wearing glasses and carrying a library card, hopping around and ribbiting. Ew—maybe even eating bugs! Well. Your day just got complicated, didn’t it? Because now you have to direct the frog to the library (and he does walk SO slowly) and then you have to make a mad dash all around town, looking for a person squatting and hopping and bulging his or her throat out. You wouldn’t want any harm to come to them, after all. It’s not their fault they were tampered with by a mad scientist. And if you can be the first to snap a photo and sell it to a tabloid, why not? It’s only fair.

But despite a thorough search of town, and even HOURS in the ice cream shop eating ice cream and watching people walk by, (in case our human-frog hops by, of course) there is simply no sign of a person who’s been changed to a frog. Instead, just as you are finishing up your raspberry sundae, here comes that talking frog again, carrying a stack of books! You slip out the store, follow the frog, and discover that he’s heading straight for………

Oh shoot, Norman. My three minutes are up. Well—that was a fantastic free-write. And I’m certainly looking forward to your next one! I hope you have good luck on your novel. And now, I need to get back to mine!

I’m dying to know where Kelly’s talking frog was heading. I’m guessing back to his lab to study the tensile properties of Rice Krispies Treats.

Violet the Telekinetic Puppy

He wasn’t an alien, he was really…

…a talking frog who wanted me to show him how to get to the library and when we got there we saw lots of other frogs and all the frogs were having a party. There was another talking frog who was telling a joke to a laughing frog. There were other frogs at the party too and one was a hiccuping frog and one was a singing frog and one was a frog who played the drums. I told the frogs they’d better be quiet or the librarian would make them leave the library and that’s just what happened and because I was with the noisy frogs I had to leave too. And that’s when the first talking frog told me again that he was an alien and I thought he was lying before because his nose grew when he said it but then I knew he wasn’t lying because he took me and all the other frogs to his ship and took us for a ride to the library on the moon. Then we went for ice cream.

Morzant the Alien

He wasn’t an alien, he was really…

…was an esteemed intergalactic scientist sent to Earth to collect various lifeforms to study. He pretended to be a talking frog so Earthlings wouldn’t be aware of his mission. He thought it only sporting, however, to reveal his true identity to his prospective specimens. His ship was scheduled to depart forthwith and he had yet to collect a reptile. He knew turtles were especially dim-witted and easy to catch—especially the ones invisible from the waist down—so he approached you. As per his personal specimen-collecting code of conduct he revealed his true identity to you and asked how to get to the nearest library. He pretended not to understand the directions you supplied him with so you’d agreed to walk him to the library. You did, predictably unaware that you were leading him to his spaceship which was hidden in the library’s basement. Fortunately for you, along the way, the esteemed intergalactic scientist spotted a black mamba—a snake venomous both in the poisonous sense and in temperament—whose company for his long voyage home he deemed more desirable than yours. You watched in amazement as the ship took off. Then you were eaten by a gorilla.

Thanks to Kelly, Violet, and Morzant for sharing their creative (and sometimes disturbing and hostile) writing.

I can’t wait to read what you all think is in that mysterious box. Be careful. You never know where a black mamba might show up.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

I’m Violet and I’m a dog and the thing that I am doing is telling you about the picture book WHAT IS YOUR DOG DOING? This book does not have a story with a beginning and a middle and an end. It has lots of little stories about what dogs are doing. On one page a dog is doing a thing and on the next page another dog is doing another thing and there are words that that describe what the first dog is doing and those words rhyme with the words that describe what the second dog is doing. And then you turn the page and see more dogs doing more things.

One example is the brown dog who is “dreaming” about a cupcake with pink frosting and in his dream the brown dog is eating the cupcake and he has pink frosting on his muzzle and on the next page is a matching story about a black and white dog who is “scheming” about how to get the cupcakes with pink frosting from a tray high up on a kitchen table. If the black and white dog were telekinetic like me he could just think about the cupcakes coming to him and they would but he is not telekinetic like me so he has to get the cupcakes another way and that way is to pull on the flowery tablecloth to make the cupcakes with pink frosting slide off the table. That dog is clever and soon he will have pink frosting on his muzzle like the brown dog does.

Some of the the dogs are doing things outside and some the dogs are doing things inside but all of the dogs are doing fun things. Even when they are doing naughty things they are having fun because the thing that dogs do best is have fun.

The pictures are bright and colorful and have lots of details that are fun to look at. One of my favorite pictures is the dog who is hiding behind a curtain but he is not a very good hider because his nose and his wagging tail are sticking out. My other favorite picture is actually two pictures because it is a big picture that takes up two pages and it is the waiting room at a veterinarian’s office. You might think I wouldn’t like to see a veterinarian’s office and usually I wouldn’t because I don’t like to get shots or to have my ears pulled but I like the waiting room at the veterinarian’s office in this book because there are lots of funny details in the drawings like the magazine that has articles for dogs about how to beg and there is also a picture of a Saint Bernard sitting on his person’s lap only you can hardly see the person because the Saint Bernard is so big and that is funny.

The thing that I was doing was telling you about this book but now I am doing something else and the thing that I am doing now is wondering what the author and illustrator of this book are doing and I hope the thing that they are doing is making more books.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Geesh. Have you read Morzant’s posts? He makes it sound like all I ever do is yank his chain. Do I tease him? Sure. Do I convince him to believe crazy stuff I make up? Who wouldn’t be tempted to mess a little with a gullible extraterrestrial? Do I interrupt his interviews and disrupt his experiments? Is that so wrong? Do I pretend to think he’s a frog? Heh-heh. Yeah. That’s fun. Is everything I do designed to amuse myself at his expense? Of course not. Some things I do only start out that way.

Take my novel. True, originally I only pretended to be writing a novel to get Morzant’s goat (see his November 2, 2010 post). But then I found out I actually like to write. Ever since, I’ve been working hard on my future award-winning novel.

Morzant gets Tuesdays for his posts. I asked Bigfoot if I could have a day on the blog all to myself, too. He said I could have Monday as long as I didn’t use it to torment Morzant. Fine, fine. My second choice is to use Mondays to help you have writing fun. This is how it’ll go: I’ll give you something to write about for three minutes and you’ll do it. Ready?

Write for three minutes about the time you…

…met a talking frog in the woods. He seemed to be in a hurry. He stopped only long enough to tell you he was from another planet and to ask for directions to the nearest library. You knew he was lying. He wasn’t an alien, he was really…

Okay, now share what you wrote with me and the followers of BIGFOOT READS. Send what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of this Friday (put “Norman is the Greatest” in the subject line). I’ll post a couple of my favorite entries next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Review Policy

Unless otherwise noted, the books recommended on Bigfoot Reads are either checked out of a public library by one of the cryptids or purchased by Bigfoot.

The dream entries from Briar’s journal contain premonitions of books that will be published in the future. Briar’s dream self foresees the books’ summaries and knows which will likely appeal to each of her friends. Briar always wakes up before she can see whether her friends will enjoy the books.

Bigfoot Reads has a strict policy against recommending any book in which a dog dies.